


Thief

by but_im_danger



Category: Captain America (Movies), historical fantasy AU - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Thieves, F/F, F/M, Fantasy AU, Gen, Historical AU, Historical Fantasy AU, M/M, Outlaws, Robbery, jewel theives, not meant to be historically accurate, sorcery, thieves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-18
Updated: 2016-06-18
Packaged: 2018-07-15 20:18:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7236967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/but_im_danger/pseuds/but_im_danger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's only one thing more precious than jewels.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thief

It wasn’t like he expected it to go this way. The turn of events had not been entirely what he’d planned. His goal, the main objective of this mission from hell was to save what he could and forget about everything else. But that was before he was holding the most precious thing in the world, trapped in a treasure room with no way out. Smoke filled the room, filling the small enclosure with a hazy, grey cloud smelling of hickory. The walls were beginning to creak-- he knew he didn’t have much time left. 

 

He had to make a choice. Either take a chance and escape through the window (which was, mind, two stories off the ground with a lovely array of rosebushes and cracked rocks below), or count his blessings, say a prayer and try to bust through the door, assuming the flames didn’t gobble him up before he could make his getaway. Being a jewel thief was a much more cerebral occupation than he was given credit for.

 

But he was the best. His name was revered all over the world, and every King and rich Lord knew who he was. 

 

The Winter Soldier.

 

It had started off innocently enough, so it was thought. He grew up in Romania, where the winters were bitter and harsh and the towns few and far between. As a young man, he was a thief, a street rat, who would often times take his dead father’s war uniform and wear it while he patrolled those long, lonely dirt roads in the country. He would wait. Minutes, hours, days, until he saw a coach in the distance. But, it had to be the right kind of coach. He was no Robin Hood, but he wouldn’t rob from anyone less than nobility.

 

The best cover was that of winter. The skies were grey and unforgiving, the wind whipped and howled and bit at exposed flesh, turning it blue in nearly an instant. Snow fell in boatloads, oftentimes leaving visibility so poor that one could not see a mere meter ahead. In conditions like these, The Winter Soldier would strike.

 

His intentions always begun as innocent, “Are you folks lost?”, he would say. And the genius part of the ploy, the need for the winter, lay in the fact that even a local wouldn’t know up from down in those snowy, miserable conditions. And that’s just what happened. Everyone would say “Yes, do you know the way to the Inn?” and The Soldier would kindly lead them in that direction. The main variable that this whole operation hinged upon was how much the victims trusted The Soldier. With his blue eyes and handsome features, their trust was typically easily won. And so, they would be led to their destruction. 

 

He would bring them to what looked like an Inn, where his one and only accomplice would be waiting. She would offer them a smile and a welcome, and a peak down her dress if the party consisted of men. But she was deadly. The Black Widow. 

 

Most normally, the victims would be too happy and relieved to be out of the storm to really sense anything amiss. They’d drink the tea offered by the pretty red-headed inn-keep while The Soldier would unbridle and store the horses. But soon, they’d notice something was very amiss. By then though, it would be much too late.

 

The Black Widow was what many would call a sourceress, but in reality, she had worked in an apothecary in her youth, her parents having owned one. She knew the ins and outs of everything, what herbs made you feel sick and what herbs made you sleep. Her favorites though, were the hallucinogenic ones, and if there was ever a time when a victim got a little too handsy, tried to sneak his hand up her skirt, or force her into the back room, you coul bet that she’d use those in the tea instead. 

 

Then after the victims were sedated (or in the case of those nasty patrons, passed out from fear), The Black Widow would meet The Soldier out the back, a sack of jewels and gold over his shoulder, and they would make their way into the blizzard, better off than those fools who would wake up in a few hours, no memory of their robbery, sick, and nearly all of their cargo gone.

 

This cycle would repeat itself, and every noble would be warned to stay away from those lonely back roads during a storm in the winter, but in typical noble fashion, these warnings would be brushed off because, “no one would be so foolish as to rob me.” And due to their anonymity, their ability to fit right in with the local folk at the tavern, The Winter Soldier and The Black Widow marked these nobles for disaster.

 

What they did with their spoils varied. In typical goody-two-shoes fashion, some of their loot went to the orphanage, a soft place in The Black Widow’s heart, as she had spent most of her life there before she was an adult. Other times, the treasure would be used to fund their trips to Italy, for the culture and food, or towards clothing to survive the harsh, harsh winter. 

 

And the pair worked seamlessly together. The Black Widow had never found her love, preferring instead to kill all of her many lovers, some of whom were sought out after they’d been robbed blind. They never recognized her, and she killed them guiltlessly. The Soldier on the other hand, was a different story, because he also liked men, but didn’t have the time for them. He was a different breed, of a different variety, and while many men his age were concerned with courting or the kind of dowry they’d received when their arranged marriage had taken place, he was more focused on the fables of love. 

 

Much of The Soldier’s money from his robberies when towards buying the classics. He could never get enough of these stories-- peasant women marrying princes, ordinary people being chosen as lovers to the gods, and though happy endings were few and far between, that wasn’t what The Soldier was interested in, it was the desire that he’d never gotten.

  
One year, after a particularly successful winter, The Soldier and The Black Widow decided to lay very low for a while, not due to any worries of being caught, but for time to enjoy what little lives their like of work allowed for them to have. So, they packed up their bags and went to Ireland, and neither of them knew that this trip would change them both forever.

**Author's Note:**

> Again, this is not meant to be historically accurate at all, it's basically just a fun fantas sotry, or at least that's what i'm hoping for. Tags and characters and relationships will be added as i add more chapters, but i didn't want to give too much away from the start.


End file.
